


before love was free.

by bluejune



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, this is abt markbum but from bam's perspective, whose angel is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejune/pseuds/bluejune
Summary: Bambam has never been in love, but he's seen what it does to people.





	before love was free.

**Author's Note:**

> i could never rescue you.

Bambam has never been in love, but he’s seen what it does to people. 

 

He’d seen the way his mother’s eyes would light up when his father came home. The flush that would come to her cheeks when he kissed them, the smile she wore when they all sat down for dinner together. The way she would listen, really listen when he told them about his day at work. How she flinched ever so slightly when a female coworker was brought up, but seemed to trust him anyway. 

 

They never let the money come between them, even if they wanted to sometimes. He remembers so clearly being five years old and watching his mother pray on her knees for their lottery ticket, seeing the tears stream down her cheeks as she hiccuped pleas to God. 

 

_ Dear Lord, please, please, please. Dear Lord, please send my boys to college. Dear Lord, please keep food on our plates. Dear Lord, please help us follow your plan and keep us in your warmth even when the heat gets shut off. Dear Lord- _

 

And he remembers the desperate, loving look in his father’s eyes as they comforted his mother when their numbers didn’t match. He remembers his father kissing her forehead and whispering that they’d get the next one, he’d get a promotion soon, they would hire her soon, and Bambam and Jaebum would be safe. They would all be safe, and they’d buy thicker blankets in the wintertime if it made her feel any better. 

 

He remembers that despite her heavy sobs and pitiful cries of anguish, she never shoved him away. She leaned into him and let herself cry into his shoulder, let her mascara stain his good shirt. She held out her arm for Jaebum to take- which he did, sort of shakily. Like he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be loved so. Bambam remembers being pulled into their pile of tears and love somehow, and he remembers thinking that love was powerful.

 

He’d seen the power of love in other ways, too. Sometime after his mother did get hired and Jaebum entered his senior year of high school. They were doing much better financially. Bambam even had two winter coats that year. 

 

Life began to change. Jaebum had friends over from time to time, but he only ever saw one of them consistently. A boy that had blonde hair the first time Bambam met him, and bright red hair the second time, a year later. He was sweet, quiet. His laugh was something of an angel’s. He smelled like laundry detergent and the sun.

 

His name was Mark, Jaebum told him one bright afternoon. When the air was more of a breeze and they left the backdoor open just a crack. “What do you think of him?” Bambam asked, and he wasn’t sure why. 

 

Jaebum shrugged. “He’s my best friend, I guess. Don’t tell Jinyoung.” Bambam didn’t even know who Jinyoung was.

“What do  _ you  _ think of him?”

 

Bambam stared at the ceiling. It was chipped in weird places. Kind of the same way the shower water was only hot sometimes. “I’ve never talked to him,” he said, “but I guess he seems like a nice person. I like his hair.” Jaebum smiled.

 

“Me too.”

 

Really, Bambam should’ve known then. But he didn’t. He didn’t know anything. 

 

The nights got longer as winter came closer. Mark showed up at their house more and more, especially now that he was old enough to drive himself. He was almost used to seeing his red hair splashed against the beige of their household. Some nights, he slept in Jaebum’s room. Which seemed normal, for the most part. Bambam was a pretty lonely teenager, so he didn’t really know what counted as normal when it came to friendships. 

 

He knew that some of the things Mark would say when he thought Bambam was asleep were  _ not  _ normal. He hated listening to them, because it made him feel like a creep, but he loved to hear what Mark had to say. However weird it may be. 

 

“Someday,” he remembers him saying, “none of this will matter. We’ll be far away from here. And we won’t be afraid. You’ll be a teacher and I’ll work on my art. We’ll live in an apartment, probably. Something cozy. Something ours. We won’t have to think about this place ever again. Not school, not your parents, not my sister. And I’ll love you.”

 

At the time, he understood whatever Jaebum mumbled back. Now, he does not. 

 

Despite being so quiet, Mark loved with his words. Bambam wondered how his brother could handle it. To have someone be so open, so vocal, so loud about loving him. At least, when he thought no one else was listening. When he thought Bambam had fallen asleep and their parents were out to dinner. 

 

Bambam remembers the exact moment everything went to shit. It was Valentine’s Day afternoon. Mark was over, because he was always over, and helping Jaebum with his pre-cal homework. Their parents were cooking something that smelled how watching a Hallmark movie feels. 

 

He knew something was going to happen. There was something odd about Mark’s last visit. He hadn’t gone off on his normal tangent about the future or how much he loved Jaebum’s hands. It was different that night. Just quiet, delicate words. Repeated until late that night, or maybe early that morning. 

 

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

 

Bambam hadn’t really thought much of it at the time. He figured it was just another thing he didn’t understand about them. Just another thing that made his heart race in both fear and excitement at the thought of being cared for like that, the thought of being looked at the way Jaebum looked at Mark. 

 

His father kissed his mother and she giggled while messing with the oven temperature. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said sweetly. Bambam looked around him, breathed in all the love trapped inside their dining room, and felt like his chest was empty. 

 

That wasn’t the bad part. 

 

Of course, Mark had decided to stay the night. He always did. Bambam was up studying at three in the morning. Mark and Jaebum were up making out at three in the morning. His father was up investigating the noise coming from Jaebum’s room at three in the morning. 

 

Bambam remembers the sick feeling in his stomach as he heard his father curse and yell and Jaebum beg for forgiveness, for understanding, for their father to _just_ _fucking listen to him for a second_. Bambam remembers the terrified expression on his mother’s face as she stared at her oldest son like she had never met him before. But worst of all, Bambam remembers Mark’s horrible silence the rest of the night. He felt like crying because he knew Mark wouldn’t. He wanted to hear every word, every confession trapped in Mark’s throat. He had listened to him whisper poetry through the walls for _months_ , and now he didn’t say a word. 

 

Of course, his father threw Mark out somewhere in between yelling at Jaebum and damning Mark to hell. Because that’s what people do when they’re scared. Jaebum yelled something Bambam doesn’t remember now, but he remembered it being ugly. Mark and their mother were mute. 

 

And it was like that for the next month. The house was silent unless they were yelling at each other. Jaebum was angry all the time. He wouldn’t even talk to Bambam. He couldn’t even look at their father without starting a fight. Their mother did her best to seem indifferent, not wanting to betray their father but unable to lose her son. 

 

Bambam would lay in bed and think of Mark’s words every night. The desperation, the love, the feeling behind them. The silence was fucking deafening. He wished he’d written every last word down. He wanted to remember them all. 

 

But he still hadn’t seen the true power of love, not yet. 

 

Not until that night in March. It was cold and wet outside, the night sky making it seem like the world was drenched in something new, something frightening. It was two in the morning, and Bambam couldn’t sleep. He never could.

 

Suddenly, there was noise downstairs. Whispering and a loud thump. 

 

If you asked him what made him get out of bed to investigate that night, he wouldn’t have an answer. It was like something was tugging on his chest, pulling him towards the front door. Pulling him towards a soaked, crying Mark Tuan and his brother. 

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he heard Mark whisper. “I can’t keep avoiding you and, and, I can’t keep  _ living _ without you. You don’t understand.” His voice sounded different somehow. Like it was him, but a more raw version of him. Different. 

 

“Mark, please,” Jaebum whispered back. “Give me just a few more months and-”

 

“I  _ can’t _ ,” Mark hiccuped. “Jaebum, I can’t. I can’t.” Bambam wanted to turn the corner and see them, he wanted to know. He wanted to stare true love in the face. 

 

They’re quiet for a moment with the exception of Mark’s desperate, soft sobs. “Okay,” Jaebum said finally. “If you’re ready.”

 

“Are you ready?” Mark said. He sounded hopeful and scared.

 

“No, but I love you. So I’ll be ready. For you.” His brother’s words were not as pretty as Mark’s had always been, and maybe that was the point. “Let me get a few things, okay? Wait for me outside.” 

 

“It’s raining,” Mark said.

 

Jaebum laughed. Bambam knew what was coming now. “Wait in the car, then. If you don’t love me enough to get a little wet.” And then Mark’s angelic laugh carried through the halls. Bambam prayed his parents wouldn’t wake up.

 

_ Dear Lord, please let my brother be happy. Dear Lord, please keep him safe with Mark. Dear Lord, you know he’s fragile, please. Dear Lord, I don’t think I can handle it if you hurt them again. Dear Lord-  _

 

“Bambam?” Jaebum exclaimed, snapping him out of his prayers. “Shit. Bam-”

 

“How can I help?” he whispered. Jaebum blinked and stared at him for just a second. Then, they seemed to understand each other. 

 

“Get me a trash bag to put my clothes in. Please.”

 

That night, his brother and Mark left town together. Forever. They’re probably in an apartment or something. Something cozy. Something theirs. Jaebum is probably a teacher and Mark is probably painting something new right now. 

 

Bambam hasn’t heard from Jaebum ever since. He remembers his mother’s terrible cries at the loss of her son. He remembers his father’s anger and he remembers his chest feeling so much lighter knowing that Jaebum wasn’t around to see it. That they couldn’t hurt him anymore. 

 

Love was powerful. It was more powerful than him, more powerful than his brother, more powerful than Mark Tuan, more powerful than their father. It was the most powerful thing God had ever created. 

 

And so, as he recalls these memories while staring at the cute, lost boy asking him the best way to get to 34th street- he thinks that maybe he’s ready to feel something that powerful. 

 

“Why don’t I take you there myself?” 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if i'm happy with this tbh! but i don't think there's much i can do to fix the parts i don't like.
> 
> follow me on twitter @starrymtuan


End file.
